


Bridging the Gap

by Lisafer



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce, The Circle Opens - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Class Differences, F/M, Forum: Goldenlake, Peculiar Pairings Ficathon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:09:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisafer/pseuds/Lisafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandry recognizes what's unspoken, and sees promises that can't come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridging the Gap

“Dedicate Lark says you’ve been up here all afternoon,” Pasco said, climbing out onto the thatched roof of Discipline Cottage. “Is it true that you four would sit up here for hours?”

He never referred to their Circle as anything but “you four”; Sandry reckoned he didn’t like speaking of people by name if he’d never met them. Somehow, even with the others home in Summersea for so long, he’d never met Daja or Briar or Tris. 

“We wouldn’t spend hours here at once,” she said, her voice soft. She didn’t remove her gaze from the clouds, except a brief glance to make sure he was balanced. “There was always too much work to do – more magic to learn. Why are you here?”

“I had a message from the Lord Provost, for Honored Dedicate Moonstream.” He carefully sat next to her. “Dedicate Lark was at the Hub, though, and she told me you were here.”

“I arrived early, not knowing she had obligations elsewhere. I told her I’d be fine up here, reminiscing and daydreaming.”

“It’s pretty,” he said, stretching his long legs out before him. When they’d met, he was only an inch taller than her. Now the difference was vast. 

“The quiet is nice,” she said, leaning against the chimney. “We would sit here every afternoon, and sometimes we wouldn’t even speak.”

“Not even mind-speaking?”

“Not even that.” There wasn’t as much mind-speaking these days, even with the bonds re-opened. They’d all grown up, Tris had pointed out. Adults had secrets. Though they had shared some of their darkest moments with each other, it didn’t take them back to where they once had been. “Sometimes sitting in the quiet, not speaking at all, is the most intimate thing people can share.”

He looked at her sidelong, his eyes dark and amused. “We’ve spent plenty of time not talking.”

“It doesn’t count if I’m teaching you to breath and control your magic.” Sandry smiled at him, noting, as she did so, that he had aged well over the years since she’d taught him. They’d seen each other only in passing since she was sixteen. He’d been attractive enough at fourteen, but now he had grown into his looks better. His hands and feet didn't remind her of a puppy waiting to grow into its large paws.

“Are you kindly asking me to be quiet?” He grinned back at her, and for a moment she felt a fluttering in her chest. 

“No, this is nice,” she said, resting her hand over his. They were half the size of his, and the brown of her sun-kissed skin was slightly darker than his amber. She wondered, idly, how he managed to keep himself from burning under the sun, since his work should have kept him outside more than hers. 

“How is his Grace?” Pasco lifted his hand off the roof, turning it over beneath hers. His palm was calloused – like hers, but different. 

“He’s doing well. I’m tired of the bickering between him and his sons, though.”

“About what?” 

“Heirs and budgets and foreign policies. It’s often quite interesting, but some mornings it’s overwhelming, and I have to get away.” 

“What about your friends?”

She’d contemplated going to Cheeseman Street. Things were better since coming back from Namorn, but that didn’t mean the four of them wanted to spend all their time together. “They have their own lives – work to do, people to meet. Tris is going away soon.”

“You don’t like to be far away from those you love, do you?”

“I lost my parents when I was ten,” Sandry said, her voice soft. She absently laced her fingers through his. “If I don’t have to lose something, I don’t want to. That’s why I’ve kept in contact with you, even if it was sparse.”

“I would’ve liked to see you more.” His voice was low and emotional. She didn’t remember when he’d stopped calling her Lady Sandry, or simply “my lady”. Was it all those years ago, after their first magical working together? Perhaps all formality is lost when you’re both drenched in someone else’s blood.

“You’re always welcome at Duke’s Citadel,” she said softly, looking up into his dark eyes.

“I’m not,” he replied. “And you’re not fit to be with the Acalons and the Harriers.”

Something in his face told her a story he would never say out loud. He cared for her – maybe he always had? – but knew that nobles don’t mix with the Provost’s men. Their lives were too different, the gulf between them too wide for him to ever say anything to her.

“We’re both mages,” she whispered, moving toward him. “Just two mages.”

Their lips met hesitantly, sweetly.

“No,” he said softy, caressing her cheek with his free hand. “We’ll always be different from each other. But we can pretend that we’re the same for the next hour.”


End file.
